


Icy cold

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Domestic Married Amasai Oneshots [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Because I'm gay and I do what I want, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Heehee I wanna write more for this AU, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, Married Couple, Rain, They're adults in this one!, baths, getting caught in the rain, non-sexual nudity, one (1) kiss, wanna see married amasai fluff RN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: Shuichi frowns as a particularly strong gust of wind hits him, stopping at a red light and tucking his briefcase underneath his arm to pull up his collar. He really should’ve checked the forecast when he was getting dressed this morning. His cloth trench coat is fantastic for like, aesthetic purposes, and it blocks out the wind decently well, but it’s not even remotely water proof. Which means Shuichi is about to be a whole lot wetter, if it starts raining.(Well, really what he should’ve done is grabbed his wallet on the way out the door, but that’s all in the past now. Suck it up, Saihara-Amami.)---Shuichi gets caught in the rain on his way home from work.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Domestic Married Amasai Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691560
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	Icy cold

As Shuichi locks the glass entrance to his uncle’s detective agency, he casts a nervous look up at the grey clouds that have been getting progressively more dense since his lunch break. The air smells wet, despite the fact that it’s not raining yet, and he’s not liking the look of his commute home. Ordinarily he’d take the bus (since he and Rantaro don’t have a car) but it slipped his mind this morning to grab fare on the way out the door. As well as his house keys, but that’ll be a problem for the Shuichi of one hour from now. Right now he has to worry about getting home before the sky starts dumping freezing sheets of water down on him.

It’s no problem that they don’t own a car most days. It’s better for the environment that way, plus Rantaro hates traveling by any kind of vehicle except for maybe their boat; like, he already loathes taking the bus, but cars are an impossibility unless there’s a serious emergency. Shuichi would prefer to default to a method of transportation that leaves his husband feeling safe and comfortable, even if it’s sometimes an inconvenience when he needs to go somewhere far away for a case. But the look of those rain clouds…

Shuichi briefly contemplates calling an uber. He doesn’t like using uber, though, if he can help it. Sure, financially it’s no problem, since his job gives him a steady flow of income and Rantaro’s not poorly paid either as a therapist (plus there’s Rantaro’s inheritance to contend with, but they’re trying to save that for when they have kids) but even though his anxiety has calmed down with age, Shuichi still isn’t the biggest fan of hopping into a car with a stranger. It’s one thing on the bus, since there are tons of people there and he can always snag a seat near the driver if he’s feeling on edge, but in an uber he’s totally by himself. Unless he gets a shared ride, but like… that feels almost worse.

He’ll just walk. If he moves quickly, maybe he’ll beat the rain, or be more than halfway home by the time it starts coming down. To be safe, he tucks his cellphone into his briefcase, which he had the forethought to buy waterproof, and ducks his head as he starts down the sidewalk. It’s getting closer to nine o’clock, which means that he won’t be home until ten. Usually he’s off work by eight at the latest, but he stayed late tonight to finish up some work on a case that’s been eating at him up until a couple hours ago. Before meeting Rantaro, Shuichi was in a long-term relationship with his friend Kaede-- and she was nice, lovely, even (they’re still good friends now), but she really couldn’t stand it when he stayed late. She respected his devotion to his field but she always insisted that he should stop overworking himself.

It was all very well-meaning, but Kaede can be kind of pushy when she wants to be. That isn’t why they broke up, though. (Things happen. People break up. It was sad at the time but nowadays Shuichi is grateful for the times they spent together and grateful for the end of them as well. He has a wonderful husband waiting for him at home so there’s really nothing for him to complain about.)

Shuichi frowns as a particularly strong gust of wind hits him, stopping at a red light and tucking his briefcase underneath his arm to pull up his collar. He really should’ve checked the forecast when he was getting dressed this morning. His cloth trench coat is fantastic for like, aesthetic purposes, and it blocks out the wind decently well, but it’s not even remotely water proof. Which means Shuichi is about to be a whole lot wetter, if it starts raining.

(Well, really what he should’ve done is grabbed his wallet on the way out the door, but that’s all in the past now. Suck it up, Saihara-Amami.)

About a fourth of the way home, as Shuichi is crossing a bridge, he feels the first light droplets of water on his face. He figured that this would happen. Sighing, he quickens his pace, but it isn’t long before there is a steady stream of water coming down. It would be fascinating on another day to see how quickly the rain turns the pale pavement into a shiny slate colour, but right now Shuichi is focusing on not stepping in any puddles. His Adidas are good for a lot of things but they sure aren’t water proof. He’s sure that he has rain boots lying around the house somewhere-- and if he doesn’t, then Rantaro is bound to-- and he should probably look into wearing those more often. Or, again, checking the weather forecast.

It’s nothing like the rainy season in June and July. That rain at least comes down warm. No, it’s late October, and it was already cold to begin with. Shuichi was being hit in the face with the occasional strong gust of wind as he struggled out of the agency. The rain that’s currently soaking through his jacket, suit, button-down, and undershirt is icy cold, and the more he walks the thicker the stream gets, until he can hardly see a couple feet in front of himself for water. Shuichi pauses, resting a hand on a telephone pole, and takes a gasping breath, shivering. It feels more like taking a shower. And metropolitan Tokyo is always lit up with all kinds of blues and greens and pinks and yellows, but it’s still dark. The thick cloud cover overhead isn’t doing the level of light here any favours.

  
As soon as Shuichi reaches their more residential area, navigating the grid-like streets until he reaches their small house, it’s going to be like, really dark. The street lamps are fine but it’s hard to tell what’s what with all the rain. Shuichi brushes his bangs out of his face, noting with a frown that they’re already soaked through, and keeps walking.

And it is… deeply uncomfortable. Nevermind the cold, which is awful in itself, but the fabric of his pants was not meant to get wet. Shuichi has sensitive skin, too (there are some fabrics that he simply can’t wear because of the texture) so it’s really starting to chafe. He’s stepped in enough puddles by now that his socks are both wet and every step he takes makes an unpleasant squishing noise. He hugs close to the buildings on his right, because water is pooling at the curb and walking close by is the quickest way to get drenched by a car. Not that he isn’t already drenched, but still. It’s like jumping into a freezing cold swimming pool after a cold shower. Just… why?

When Shuichi finally reaches his neighbourhood, he feels slightly dizzy, and ready to burst out of his own skin. Instead he pauses underneath a streetlight and looks at his free hand. His fingers are totally pruned. Go figure. He runs that hand through his hair, feels water trickle down his back, and trudges onward. Not far now. Just two more turns… and then one… and then a couple houses to pass before he crosses the street.

Shuichi spends a solid minute patting himself down in search of his keys, bouncing back and forth from his toes to his heels and wishing that they had an actual porch with an overhang. Eventually he remembers that he forgot his keys this morning, curses himself for doing so, and rings the bell. He really hopes that Rantaro isn’t asleep. It must be what, ten? Ten fifteen? And Rantaro tends to go to sleep pretty early. He usually waits for Shuichi to get home first, though, and he’s sort of banking on that…

A yellow light creeps out of the house when it swings open, and Shuichi, who was looking down, finds himself staring at Rantaro’s mismatched socks. Actually, one of those socks was Shuichi’s at one point, but considering how many sweaters he has hanging up in his closet that still bear the strong smell of Rantaro (since they were his) he doesn’t really have any space to complain.

“You’re home late, did you forget your keys? You should’ve texted me that you were working late, I thought something happened and it was a police officer knocking on the door to report that you’d been brutally murdered or so-- holy shit, you’re soaked through,” Rantaro cuts off his worried rambling with an equally concerned exclamation, and when Shuichi meets his gaze, he sees a deep crease between his husband’s eyebrows. “Jesus, did you walk home?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” Shuichi stutters, shivering even as Rantaro reaches out to help him inside. Their house is warm but Rantaro is much warmer, and dry, too, his rough hands resting themselves on Shuichi’s neck and back to guide him onto the indoor welcoming mat. He leans against the window sill by their door as Rantaro closes and locks it, shooting him another worried look. “I forgot my wallet,” he pauses. “And my k-keys.”

“Mm, you haven’t stuttered like that in almost ten years,” Rantaro murmurs, moving over to him and removing his briefcase from his hand. He tosses it on floor, apparently deciding to worry about it later, and gently coaxes Shuichi’s coat from his shoulders.

He can’t help pouting slightly. “It’s n-not because I’m nervous, it’s because I’m c-cold,” he points out, and Rantaro gives him an awfully soft look, hanging his dripping coat up on the coat rack on the other side of the door. He taps Shuichi’s shoulder with his index finger, as though to say  _ wait a sec,  _ and disappears from the foyer. Shuichi can hear the closet door creaking as it opens and the sound of Rantaro rifling through the things in there. A moment later he reappears with a large and fluffy navy blue towel (one of Shuichi’s favourites) and wraps it around Shuichi’s shoulders, pulling a part of it over his head to start rubbing his hair dry. It coaxes a laugh out of Shuichi’s mouth, because Rantaro is being very purposeful about all of this, but despite the warmth from both the towel and his husband standing in front of him, he still feels rather cold.

“I’m just doing this to warm you up, you should probably take a bath or something. And I can brew you some tea,” Rantaro hums, dropping his hands from Shuichi’s head and pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “I made dinner a couple hours ago and I can heat it up for you while you’re upstairs.”

“Hmm,” Shuichi knows that he’s being a little bit self-indulgent, but he can’t help leaning forward to press his face against Rantaro’s shoulder. He’s always been a walking heater, ever since they met over a decade ago. It must make him a hit with his clients. (Not that Rantaro ever hugs his clients unless they really need it… something about therapist-patient boundaries that Shuichi only has a slight understanding of from when he used to have a therapist six or seven years ago. Still, though. He’s warm in more ways than just body heat.) “Can you take me upstairs?”

“Oh?” Rantaro raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “Did the rain render you immobile?”

“Yes,” Shuichi closes his eyes, burying his nose in his husband’s shirt. That isn’t true, of course; he’s just tired and cold and he feels too weak to make his way up the stairs and run a bath all on his own. He’s perfectly capable of doing it himself and he and Rantaro rarely bathe together, actually, but… he feels it in Rantaro’s chest when he hums, and then an arm curls around his lower back, so he tucks his own around his husband’s neck to be more efficiently lifted off the floor. They’ve been married so long it feels like it’s been ages since Rantaro’s properly carried him, but it’s… nice, really nice. Shuichi rests the side of his head against Rantaro shoulder and keeps his eyes closed, though he points his toes when Rantaro tugs off his shoes to make it easier on him.

He nearly falls asleep on the way up the stairs, since the up and down of Rantaro walking while carrying him is… unspeakably soothing, but he manages to regain consciousness as they enter the bathroom, the familiar click of the lightswitch sending green-tinted light through his eyelids. Shuichi coaxes them open when Rantaro rests him on the toilet cover.

And he didn’t ask him to, but Rantaro turns the knob on the bathtub to hot and starts running the water, feeling it until it turns sufficiently warm and plugging the drain. As the tub fills, he helps Shuichi out of his socks and his suit, running a hand through his hair before he pushes up his sleeves to finish attending to the bath.

It’s always pretty cold in the bathroom, and especially so while he’s naked, so Shuichi tucks his legs into his chest, watching Rantaro pour in bubble bath or whatever fancy scented things he always adds to baths to make them so nice. Maybe that’s why his skin is soft, because he douses it in products. The lighting in this room is so odd-- Shuichi thinks it’s slightly green because the light fixtures are old (they bought the house off of a man who was in his eighties!) but it still makes Rantaro look like… green tea. Or something. He doesn’t actually like green tea very much, except in ice cream. Matcha ice cream… that’s the good stuff.

Ah, he really is tired. Rantaro turns off the faucet finally, flicking the excess water from his hands back into the tub and turning to give Shuichi an expectant look.

“Need help getting in?” he asks softly. From anyone else it might be a jab, but Shuichi is pretty sure he’s asking genuinely. That’s one of the reasons that… he fell in love with Rantaro, actually, because he’s so… kind. That’s the best word. And his eyes are soft. Shuichi shakes his head, getting to his feet, and when Rantaro rises as well, he pushes himself up to peck his husband on the lips before he climbs into the bathtub.

Rantaro makes to leave, but before he can get past the sink, Shuichi reaches out to stop him. “Wait,” he hesitates, wondering why he feels so insecure about such a simple request. He knows Rantaro won’t mind staying if he asks him to. “Can you tell me about your day at work today?” It’s a mark of how fortunate they are, that they’re both in careers that they are incredibly passionate about-- but being a therapist can be a stressful job and Shuichi likes to listen to him talk about it. Not that Rantaro can disclose information that he got from his clients, but there are other things he can talk about. Interactions he had with coworkers, mishaps, the like. Sometimes he doesn’t have to talk for Shuichi to understand.

For a moment, Rantaro appraises him, giving him a measured look. “You doing okay? Did something happen at work?” he asks gently.

“Ah, no, I’m alright,” Shuichi smiles, meaning it. He averts his gaze after a moment, though, messing with a handful of soap bubbles. “It’s just been a very long day and I’d like to sit with you and talk for a while.” He pauses, turning to look back at his husband. “Why, does my attire embarrass you, Rantaro? Are you not a fan of my birthday suit?”

Laughing, Rantaro shakes his head, closing the bathroom door as he makes his way over. “Jeez, you act like I haven’t seen you naked a thousand times.”

“Mm, then you have nothing to be worried about,” Shuichi nods. Rantaro gives him a grin as he sits down next to the tub, folding his arms at the edge, and raising his eyebrows placidly. They’ll talk in a minute. It’s nice to take a moment to drink each other in.

Looking at Rantaro’s face really never gets old. Shuichi runs a hand through his husband’s hair, and his lip curls at the darker green that appears as it gets wet. If he listens closely he can still hear the rain pouring outside, against the windows and the roof, and he shivers with the memory of the cold. He can breathe a lot easier now, though. Rantaro nuzzles his hand, closing one of his eyes for just a second, and Shuichi smiles wider.

He has something much more important to listen to than the rain sitting right in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> [to the tune of "we are farmers" jingle]
> 
> they are married. bum ba dum bum bum bum bum
> 
> anyway lkajsdfk wow! self indulgent amasai!! i'm gonna write more for this Soon so your body better be ready
> 
> i woke up today and said "fuck it, i'm finishing updates and writing one-shots" and then i DID so that's pretty sexy of me i would say
> 
> hrnrndkjf mayhaps..... a sickfic.......... after this?
> 
> oh yeah unrelated but angie is also a therapist at the counseling service where rantaro is employed. just a lil note. a fun fact


End file.
